


Truce

by Melacka



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Drinking, F/M, Innuendo, Season 2, Uneasy Truce
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:34:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24301423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melacka/pseuds/Melacka
Summary: Spike was on his third drink when she walked in.
Relationships: Spike/Buffy Summers
Comments: 6
Kudos: 36
Collections: Villain of My Own Story Exchange 2020





	Truce

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Enisy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enisy/gifts).



Spike was on his third drink when she walked in. He paused, his glass poised in front of his lips, and watched with interest. There was a sudden alertness in the room. A frisson of fear passed through the largely demon crowd as the slayer stopped, outlined by the dim light of the doorway. Spike was impressed. This slayer must be _good_ , to be able to walk into a crowded demon bar like this one and have everyone _else_ in the room terrified. Spike respected that kind of reputation in a girl. He’d always rather fancied a girl who could have her own way. Dictate her terms. Tell a man just what she needed doing.

He clenched his glass a little tighter as he remembered why he was in the bar that night. Why he was alone, yet again. Why he was skulking around in this second-rate bar drinking third-rate whiskey.

Drusilla.

His beautiful, damaged, dangerous sire. She was everything to him. _Everything_.

And she had gone off. Again. To be with _him_.

Angelus.

Fucking wanker.

He slammed back his drink in one go, barely noticing the burn in his throat as he did so. Then he resumed his study of the slayer. When it became clear that she wasn’t there to kill anyone, the bar gradually returned to its previous state. Buffy made her way slowly through the crowd and to the bar, where she unsuccessfully tried to order a drink.

Spike debated briefly whether to make his presence known to her but decided to risk it. He didn’t think she’d be any particular danger to him tonight, but it wouldn’t do to drop his guard. He slipped out of his booth and walked up behind her, close enough to whisper in her ear but with enough room to back away if she happened to be packing a stake in her back pocket.

“Slayer.”

She jumped and turned around to face him, eyes widening comically.

“Spike?”

She reached automatically for where she must have had a hidden stake and he held up his hands defensively.

“I don’t want trouble, pet.”

“Then don’t call me _pet_.”

Spike smirked and said, “Join me for a drink?”

“What?” she sputtered. “Join you for a _what_?”

“A drink, Slayer, it’s what they serve in places like this. Unless you’ve come for some other reason? If you fancy a bar brawl instead, I’d be happy to accommodate you.”

“I didn’t come here to fight,” she said defensively.

“That’s what I thought.”

He grabbed a clean glass from the bar and headed back to his booth, ignoring the other patrons completely. When he sat back down, Buffy was still hovering some distance away, looking uncertain and suspicious.

“Don’t worry, I won’t bite,” he said teasingly, and she glared at him. “At least, not _you_. Not tonight.”

“Why not?” she snapped, taking a cautious step closer to him. “What’s so special about tonight?”

“Because I’m here to drink,” he said simply, pouring her a small measure of liquor into her glass. “Don’t go telling that watcher of yours and we can safely go back to being sworn enemies tomorrow.”

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” she demanded, eyeing the glass as if she thought it were poisoned. “I won’t let you—”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Spike interrupted smoothly. “Sip it slowly if you’re so worried.”

She sat down across from him, still looking like she was ready to bolt at any second. Spike took a small sip of his drink and then lit a cigarette, watching her with interest. She sniffed at her drink and then took a cautious sip, wrinkling her nose at the taste.

“So, what’s new?”

Buffy stared at him, completely shocked.

“What’s _new_?”

“I’m trying to make conversation, Slayer. Being polite and all.”

“Yeah, because politeness is right at the top of your list of priorities,” she scoffed. “We can just sit in silence.”

“If that’s what you want. Come here to drown your sorrows, then?”

“None of your business.”

“You’re a delight, you know that? An absolute joy to be around.”

“What is this, anyway?” she asked, ignoring his comment and swirling the liquid in her glass.

“Whiskey.”

“It’s pretty gross.”

“You need to develop a taste for it.”

“Probably better if I don’t.”

He hummed noncommittally at that and took a long drag of his cigarette. She swirled the liquid in the glass for a moment more but made no effort to drink it. Spike found himself vaguely disturbed by her silence and downed the rest of his drink quickly. He topped up his glass again and held his cigarette out to her.

“Wrap your lips around that,” he said. “Have a puff.”

She waved it away, a look of disgust on her face.

“I don’t smoke, Spike.”

“You don’t usually drink, either,” he said wryly. “Tonight is a night of firsts.”

“Oh really? And what other firsts are on the cards? I don’t think I have many left.”

Spike was surprised to find himself feeling a small twinge of concern at the way she said that. Annoyed with himself for feeling that way, he waited until she had a mouthful of her drink before he spoke again.

“Well, since you’re asking, I’ve often wondered what those pretty little lips would look like wrapped around my cock,” he said conversationally.

She choked on her drink and he smirked, very satisfied.

“Keep wondering, Spike,” she growled, leaning in close, with just the hint of a blush colouring her cheeks. “I’ve often wondered what my pretty little stake would look like shoved through your heart. And I have a feeling that I’ll find out what that looks like first.”

“Don’t be so sure, pet,” Spike whispered, leaning in closer to her and trailing his eyes lazily over her face. “You’ve already allowed one of us to cross that line, it’s only a matter of time before you let someone else between those dimpled knees.”

Buffy sat back abruptly and looked away.

“You’re a pig, Spike.”

He shrugged his shoulders, completely unconcerned.

“Maybe so,” he said, nudging her glass closer to her. “But I doubt you’re able to talk to your little friends about what’s going on in that head of yours. Dark thoughts, hmm?” He tilted his head and regarded her carefully. “Dark _desires_?”

“You’re just begging me to kill you, now.”

Spike smirked and reached out a hand to touch her hair. She grabbed it before he could make contact and squeezed it tightly. Threateningly.

“I’ll beg you if you want me to, Slayer,” he said quietly. “If that’s what tickles your fancy.”

Her eyes narrowed and her grip tightened.

“Is that why you couldn’t make it work with Angelus, then? He didn’t beg for your favours?”

“Spike,” she hissed, warningly, “I _will_ kill you.”

“I don’t doubt it, pet.” He twisted his hand easily out of hers and sat back, taking a casual drag from his cigarette. “But what a way to go.”

He raised his glass at her and waited. After a moment, she picked up her glass and tentatively raised it as well.

“Cheers.”

He gently tapped his glass against hers and they both drank. As she lowered her glass again, she frowned at him pensively.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked suspiciously. “What game are you playing?”

“Not playin’,” he said sincerely. “Just sick of drinking alone, is all.”

“And you’d rather drink with me?”

“Don’t sound so surprised, pet.”

“Oh, silly me, I shouldn’t be surprised that a vampire wants to share a drink with the slayer,” she scoffed, downing the rest of her drink and grimacing dramatically at the taste. “What’s the real reason? Did Angel put you up to this?”

“I’ll make you a deal,” Spike said loudly. “I won’t mention that prat if you don’t. I came here tonight to get _away_ from him. If you want to wallow in your self-pity about him, you can sod off to another booth.”

Buffy raised an eyebrow and considered him in silence for a moment, then she reached for the bottle. She topped her glass up and then his.

“Truce?” she asked, raising her glass in question.

“Truce,” he agreed. “And I was serious, before.”

“About what?”

“I have often wondered—”

“Shut up, Spike.”

Spike smirked and brought his drink to his lips, noticing with interest that her eyes seemed to follow his every move.

“Whatever you say, pet.”


End file.
